Archive of Our Own

They announced their engagement at a restaurant with Shoko and Gojo – the two people they felt it was absolutely necessary to bear the knowledge.

Gojo blinked.

Nanami’s hand was covering Utahime’s on the table, his knuckles large, chapped from the weaponry he handled daily. Utahime was attempting a smile, obviously not enjoying the attention directed towards her.

Gojo felt blindsided. The candle at their table flickered, all four of them breathing in unison.

“Congrats,” Shoko recovered first, raising her beer towards them. She offered a good smile, looking genuine. A little like she wanted to get a smoke in before the first course arrived. “You two deserve it.”

“Thank you, Shoko.” Utahime leaned into Nanami’s side quietly, obviously relieved.

Shoko shrugged, wiping foam off her upper lip after a sip from her toast. “You’re the sanest people I know. Happy for you.”

Gojo finally shook himself, feeling Nanami’s eyes on him, gauging his reaction. His hand flexed over Utahime’s, distracting him.

“Congratulations,” Gojo managed, his voice purged of ill will.

Nanami nodded. “Thank you, Gojo.”

They were all contemplating ordering dessert at the end of their meal when Utahime stood, a hand resting absently on Nanami’s shoulder, his muscles dwarfing her wrist, even through his shirt. She smiled at him, Nanami absently petting her arm. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Gojo stood, checking his watch to log the time. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth, slapping the tabletop. “Same. Order me an extra side of ice cream with dessert, Nanamin.”

Utahime allowed Gojo to trail her between tables topped with streaming entrees, candles lit in their center, flickering as they brushed by. She left him stalk her into the women’s restroom, pinning her against the wainscoting as soon as the lock latched. The molding was probably going to leave thick stripes on Utahime’s skin under her dress, pressing into her curves – a picture which Gojo let his mind conjure. It was a ridiculous gourmet restaurant, a place Nanami insisted he treated them to. Probably vanity. Maybe to make Gojo feel puerile, his grasp on the cuisine almost nonexistent. Let him blow his money on a plate of guts, Gojo thought – kissing Utahime impatiently, her lips hesitating a moment before opening, letting him taste her, his gum tucked under his tongue. I’ll have her.

Gojo huffed in her ear, already half-hard. “What are you marrying that fucking square for?”

Utahime scowled, but helped Gojo shove his pants down, opened her palm to him line up, keeping a firm hand on his cock. “He’s your friend, too, Gojo.”

“Yeah but,” Gojo smacked on his gum, Utahime’s eyebrow twitching with every pop. “He’s not really your type.”

“Who is my type, Satoru?”

Gojo grinned. “You never stay away too long.”

Utahime rolled her eyes, her wrist working on his dick, only taking a few strokes before he was hard, his head knocking against her cunt’s warm entrance. “You’re not my type.”

Gojo reached down, his hands spreading her folds, making her shiver as he sunk into her, her legs shaking.

“I’m still yours,” Gojo felt rapturous as he slid in her, cramming her full. She was only a little wet, but so hot – Gojo’s balls nested between her thighs, feeling the heat pour off her muscles as they tensed, trying to keep him inside her. Besides, Utahime needed it like this sometimes – fast, a little rough. It kept her in check, gave her a reason to berate Gojo.

“Hurry,” Utahime threw her head back, mouth open in a moan. “I know you need it.”

Gojo did need it.

His heart hurt a little more at their announcement than he wanted to admit – to himself, to anyone.

“How good is he in bed?” Gojo was close, his balls tight, his dick sinking into her cunt in muddled strides. She sighed as Gojo pounded her, hitting a spot that made her dizzy. “Better than me?”

“Don’t know,” Utahime’s hands clawed the wall in front of them. She didn’t seem perturbed, just rushed, the flush on her cheeks high. “We’re waiting till after the ceremony.”

“Isn’t that cute,” Gojo grinned, his slit leaking precum into her, pressing into the corners of her womb. “Bet he’s got a precious dick.”

Utahime clenched around him, his cockhead suffocating inside her walls.

He knew Utahime wasn’t going to cum, not when they only had this little time – Gojo still reached down, circling her entrance, puffy around his cock, gathering slick on his fingers – Gojo used them to rub her clit, making her gasp, her pussy seizing around him.

He came in her, like he always did. It’s not like their engagement really meant anything – not to Gojo, at least. He had staked his claim on Utahime long ago, and no other man was going to overwrite that.

Especially not his friend.

Coworker. Underclassman.

Whatever.

Utahime glared at him, fixing her bra as he pulled out of her, using toilet paper to wipe himself clean. Gojo checked his watch. Seven minutes. A little long for a bathroom break. Nanami would probably notice. Hopefully Shoko would keep him stalled.

Utahime stood in front of the mirror, assessing her face. Combing her hair with her fingers, looking the part of a little wife already. Gojo’s heart stuttered.

She turned back around to Gojo as she opened the door, blocking his path. “No more of this, Gojo. We’re done.”

They weren’t.

Nanami and Utahime set their wedding date just under a year away, giving Gojo plenty of time to convince Utahime they weren’t finished just yet.

The next time was in Utahime’s kitchen, where Gojo had been invited over to taste-test some of the cake options for the wedding, since neither Nanami or Utahime particularly cared for confections.

Gojo folded her in half over their dining table, her engagement ring knocking against the hard surface. Frosting was dabbed on Utahime’s lips, Gojo licking it off her with a grin.

“You haven’t even blown him? Really?”

Utahime hissed, his hips grinding into her ass. “Shut up.”

She was wearing a little apron, one with ruffled frills, the bodice in the shape of a heart. Gojo knew Nanami must have gotten it for her – Utahime would never buy something like this for herself. He guessed they had cooked together, considering Nanami’s affection towards baked goods – if they weren’t halfway through a vow of chastity, Gojo would think Nanami fucked her in nothing but the apron, probably in the middle of baking, taking her alongside the mounds of flour and cream.

Gojo slipped his hand under the thin fabric, reaching under Utahime’s shirt, groping her tits. He wedged his leg between her thighs, Utahime not hesitating to rock down on him, her eyes fluttering shut. Gojo pulled her into his chest as he felt her, his palms squeezing around handfuls of breasts.

Gojo couldn’t help the snarl in his voice, the bitterness as he spoke, picturing her in the kitchen with Nanami. His little wife. “I bet you think about my cock sleeping next to him.”

Utahime was silent save for her moans, breathing hard with how quickly Gojo pushed up her skirt, fucking her immediately, tugging the perfect bow on the back of her apron until it unraveled. Her cunt was a mess, wet enough that her panties stuck to her.

“Need it this bad?” Gojo grinned into her, knowing she was close already, that he could easily take her over the edge with him. “You could have just asked.”

“Shut up.” Utahime reached behind herself, tugging Gojo’s hips closer, his hands cupping her tits, pinching her nipples until she let out a groan.

They both came too quickly, riding out a wave that was too large for either of them, their joint mess dripping onto the tile floor.

Together, they seemed to remember Nanami was due back from a mission at any moment, and separated, Utahime wiping powdered sugar off her forearms.

Utahime straightened as Gojo laid his head down on the counter, still breathing heavily, zipping up his pants. She managed to look dignified, her blush only complimenting the shade of her lip-gloss. “By the way, you’re wrong, Gojo. I only think of him.”

Gojo grinned, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the kitchen’s stove hood as he turned to the sink, rinsing off his hands. His hair was ruffled, eyes perked.

There was a sprinkle on his cheek, glued with a dried bit of frosting.

“Then I need to do a better job next time.”

Utahime crouched on the floor with a wet rag, cleaning up their mess. Her apron was skewed, barely hanging on her neck. “No next time. This is it.”

It wasn’t.

Next time, they were in a public restroom, Utahime giving him a blowjob that was making Gojo consider mutiny, possibly kidnapping.

He had firmly decided he wanted Utahime for himself.

Utahime wrapped her hand around Gojo’s cock, pumping him, her thumb pressing against his head the way she knew he liked it. She was only toying with him before she sunk her mouth onto his length, her cheeks pinched, capturing him in a hot ring.

They were at a karaoke bar, a sort of gift to Gojo and Shoko for tolerating their wedding planning for the past months.

“Gonna make a good wife,” Gojo grinned. “If this is how you like to fuck.”

She looked up at him, her eyes watery, like the surface of a dark pool. Tense. Utahime always looked gorgeous, but seeing her on her knees was an entirely different woman altogether, a goddess emerging from deep inside her. She slid off him, swallowing a mouthful of spit, stroking his wet cock. “You’re disgusting.”

“Let me inside you, baby.” Gojo kissed her neck as she rose, licking a careful stripe up the side of her throat. “Wanna make a mess.”

Utahime shivered, spreading her legs, letting him manhandle her until he was flush against her, both of them joint by tendons, by blood, their obsession.

“He’s never gonna fuck you like I do.” Gojo nuzzled into her, his body covering hers, encasing it in a cochlear curve, their spines shattering. “You’ll never get it this good again.”

She thrust back onto him, yelping as Gojo reached down to fan his fingers over her clit, rubbing it in a lazy semi-circle.

The truth was, Gojo felt this was coming to an end. They were getting sloppy – stealing moments like this when Nanami was just a room over, fucking more than twice a week in their shared apartment.

Gojo couldn’t help it. Couldn’t satiate himself.

He finished, Utahime swatting his hand off her ass as they returned to their private karaoke room, Shoko and Nanami polishing off a bottle of wine.

Shoko spoke up, only half-drunk after sweating out most of her alcohol with an impromptu dance performance with her solo. She scooted over from where she was passed out in the corner of the couch, letting Gojo slide in next to her. “Nanami and Utahime should do a duet.”

Utahime shook her head, leaning into Nanami’s arm he had perched on the back of the sofa. Gojo prayed Nanami wouldn’t notice the smudge of her lipstick, the smear of her eyeshadow. “I’m done for the night. My throats sore.”

Gojo snorted, Nanami’s eyes narrowing at him from across the room, a random song screening lyrics across the wall.

Nanami stepped in front of the projection, nodding at him. “Gojo. Help me carry in another round of drinks.”

Instead of heading towards the bar, Nanami held the backdoor open for him, the alleyway empty, save for a sewer grate that was leaking gray smoke. They both stepped onto the pavement, onto level ground.

Gojo adjusted his pants discreetly, his dick poking through this briefs. He opened his mouth to speak, instead getting the wind knocked out of him.

Nanami’s forearm was like a crowbar on his neck - Gojo took in breaths, each one burning as it past his windpipe, each one a herculean feat of willpower. Nanami had him pressed against the brick wall of the building, his infinity escaping him, too drunk to focus. His arm was hot against his throat, thicker than his own. Stronger.

Gojo couldn’t deny he was a little hard, his dick burning after just having been used.

“You know, she sleeps next to me, telling me how many kids she wants.” Nanami’s voice was curdled, as if his lungs were filling with blood, spitting on the wall next to Gojo. “How she can’t wait to get married so she can have my cock.” Nanami looked assaulted, as if his words plagued him. Gojo couldn’t imagine having his sense of nobility, being able to sleep next to Utahime whispering to him like a siren, and be able to resist.

Gojo squirmed under his grasp, unable to take in enough air to form sounds.

Nanami looked at him in disgust, like he wanted to spit on him – but thought better of himself.

“You can have her every now and then,” Nanami’s eyes were savage, burning through Gojo, making his bone marrow sing. He shook him, his throat rattling. “Because I’ll have her forever.”

Nanami pushed him off the wall, Gojo skidding several steps before catching himself.

Nanami didn’t turn around. “Stay away from her, Gojo.” Or I’ll cut your dick off.

Gojo couldn’t help it, his throat cracking even as he spoke, Nanami’s heels hitting the asphalt with heavy, even thuds. “Jealous?”

His back straightened. Nanami still didn’t turn around, opening the door with a large creak.

“You don’t even cross my mind, Satoru. Not when I’m with her.”

Gojo would be lying if he said that didn’t break him a little, scratch at a fresh wound that was still clotting. He was silent the rest of the night, unable to speak without coughing, without feeling nails rake down his windpipe.

He sought out Utahime even faster the next time, tracking her into Nanami’s bed while he was on a mission, making her gush around his dick, filling the entire room with the smell of them, mixing with Nanami’s cologne, their floral laundry detergent.

It wasn’t enough.

Utahime had on little house slippers when she had answered the door for Gojo, ones embroidered with U.K. on the top of her toes, calligraphy decorated with hearts, wedding bands.

Utahime Kento.

It made Gojo insane. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this rabid, coming in Utahime twice before she could manage a single orgasm, emptying a weak third orgasm on her stomach, a single spurt of cum falling on her.

He had it bad.

Nanami peaceably sat next to him at a meeting in Kyoto the next day, saying nothing as Yaga spoke at them about a mission. Something about Nanami taking a couple students with him or something. Gojo didn’t care; wondered idly why he was here instead of plastering Utahime’s cunt, trying to erase every bit of her that wanted to marry Nanami.

Nanami was silent, speaking no curses into existence.

Gojo only felt his appetite grow.

A month off from the wedding, Nanami invited Gojo out for drinks. Shoko and Utahime were having a night in, watching a couple of their favorite movies.

Gojo did a good job of separating his jealousy from his friendship with Nanami, although he supposed it would be a little harder to do that when they started going places as a set.

“It’s going to be a small wedding but,” Nanami clinked their beers together, the shrill sound making Gojo wince. Nanami had already claimed the tab, Gojo grumbling a faint protest to be polite. “Be my best man, Satoru?”

He should refuse. Gojo knew a trap when he heard one.

Instead, he grinned, knocking back the sour dregs in his bottle.

“You know it.”

It took exactly a month later, an hour before the ceremony for Gojo to regret that promise.

Gojo had pestered Shoko, getting her to key him into Utahime’s dressing room before the ceremony.

“Don’t get any gunk on her dress, Gojo.” Shoko rolled her eyes, but playfully shoved him. “Try to be nice to her.”

Gojo’s temperature plummeted as Utahime turned around in front of the tilted mirror, meeting his eyes over her shoulder as he opened the door.

Utahime was going to break his heart.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

Utahime blushed, rolling her eyes, taking a curler out of her hair, the plaited hair bouncing as she separated the spiral. She was only in her slip – the fabric rich, a shimmery snowfall white – the fabric ending at her mid-thighs, waxed to a honey sheen. “You shouldn’t be in here. Shoko’s going to run you off.”

Gojo wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder. “I made sure she’s busy.”

He gave her twenty bucks and told her to run and get a pack of cigarettes for them to share, letting her keep the change.

“Gojo.”

“Last time,” Gojo said it like a promise, pressing a kiss to her cheek, his hand petting the front of her clit through her panties.

He couldn’t bring himself to seal that promise, the vow immense.

Gojo lifted her onto one of the loveseats in the room, Utahime lying flat on her back, looking immaculate.

“Gojo,” Utahime squirmed as he entered her, too raw, too fast, the silky material pushing up to her ribs, her underwear a translucent white, the lace stretched over her perfectly shaved cunt. “Be careful. Tonight –”

“Don’t,” Gojo buried his face in her neck. He didn’t care if he sounded desperate – this was all he had. “Just be mine right now.”

Utahime bit her lip.

Gojo took her – he couldn’t even remember the first time they did this, how long they had been seeing each other in this light. Loving each other and walking away from it; leaving love in an empty space where they had just been.

It didn’t matter. He wanted it to last longer than forever.

“I’m an idiot,” Gojo mumbled into her skin, sinking in her at a breakneck pace. She was impossibly tight, her cunt getting wetter as he fucked into her, her legs spread on either side of his thighs. “Marry me instead.”

“Gojo,” Utahime sounded grieved, her voice high. She wasn’t one to cry, regardless of how often Gojo teased her for her misty eyes, but she did sob, her throat tearing. “You know I love him.”

He couldn’t stand it. Wouldn’t live this way.

Gojo’s jaw clicked, his teeth throbbing. “Don’t you love me, too?”

“Yes.” Utahime couldn’t breathe. “But it’s –”

“Nothings different.” Gojo fucked into her, enough that she groaned, legs slipping around him, pulling him inside her, her hands finding hair, tugging gently. “I’ll always want you.”

Utahime panted through their shared misery, sensing Gojo was close. “You shouldn’t come in me.”

“Why not?” Gojo kissed her, his teeth clashing against hers. “You’re mine.”

Playing the partial gentleman, he did pull out at the last moment, splattering himself over her open cunt, rubbing his head on her clit until she came with him, both of them taking manic breaths.

“Shit,” Utahime mumbled as he rolled off her, thumbing over a spot where Gojo’s cum had landed on the edge of her satin slip. “There’s a stain.”

Gojo moved down the seat to kiss her legs, his hands climbing her limbs, stroking her oiled skin. He spoke into her thigh, nipping at her. “Let’s run away.”

“Gojo.” Utahime pushed him off her, his hands falling into his naked lap. She swung her legs over, her bare feet skimming the ground.

“I’m serious. I’ll protect you.” Gojo tilted his head to meet her eyes. “I’ll take the blame.”

Utahime’s eyes simmered, her indignation clear. As Gojo reached out, opening his mouth again, she slapped him.

He exhaled, his face hot.

Utahime spoke slowly. “You need to understand, Gojo. I love Nanami. I want a life with him.” Utahime was ripe with blood and ire, her hair mused from rubbing against the couch’s armrest as Gojo fucked her. “You are in the way of that.”

Gojo blinked.

Utahime closed her eyes, touching her forehead. Gojo could feel the ache, the blow to her conscience. “It’s my wedding day. Don’t curse me anymore than you have.”

The door opened, making both of them jump. Gojo zipped up his pants, Utahime standing, walking over to her vanity. Not bothering to smooth her slip.

In the threshold, Shoko glanced between them, unseeing.

Gojo stretched out on the couch, Shoko crossing her arms. “You need to leave, Gojo.”

Gojo hooked a thumb over at Utahime, who was blotting her lips, now fresh with a pink lipstick. “I’m her bodyguard.”

“Uh huh.”

Shoko kicked him out just in time for Nanami to text him, telling him to get in position at the altar beside him.

She looked good walking towards him, better when Nanami lifted her veil.

Their kiss made him feel nothing.

Gojo let himself be unthinking, allowed himself a personal void.

Their reception color was a poppy yellow, everything tasting of lemons, whipped eggs, and sugar. It was perfect for springtime, the flowers bright, giant roses and baby’s breath making up every garland and flower arrangement. The small hotel reception room was loosely populated – the party was minimal, but everyone close to them wanted to congratulate the couple, pulling each other into staged kisses for photos. Their first dance a simple waltz, Nanami carrying Utahime across the floor.

Gojo felt sick to his stomach.

Shoko didn’t normally party too hard at events like this, but even she took pity on Gojo, hovering in the corner table he had staked out for himself.

“You could ask her to dance, you know.”

Gojo stole her wine glass, draining it, stacking it beside his collection of champagne flutes. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself.”

Shoko pat his head before he felt a tap on his shoulder, Shoko excusing herself.

“Gojo.” Nanami gestured for him to sit up, speaking into his ear to be heard above the music. “Come upstairs with us.”

Gojo tried not to sound pathetic, pitiful that he was abandoned. He might seek out Shoko at the minibar later and try to see who would puke first, knowing it would be him. “Need help with your bags?”

Nanami shook his head, eyeing him. “Are you drunk?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

The elevator ride was oddly casual, Nanami texting something on his phone while Gojo leaned against the back wall. He dragged him to a double door, Nanami explaining. “It’s the honeymoon suite. Since we only have the weekend off.”

Gojo nodded, still morose.

Behind the oak doors, Utahime was sitting on the bed in the center of the room, perched in the middle of a circular mattress, covered with feathery pillows. She looked perfectly virginal, her scar surrounded by a violent blush.

Gojo paused in the doorway, the handle hitting the small of his back.

“Why am I here?”

Nanami and Utahime shared a look.

Nanami spoke, Utahime not meeting Gojo’s eyes. He corralled him towards the other side of the bed, where a chair was set up a little distance away from the mattress. Utahime was tracking Nanami’s moves, her eyes faithful. “We thought it would be best.”

The rest of his sentence was unspoken: to teach you a lesson.

Gojo may have imagined the undertones, his drunken mind weaving nonsense, but Nanami undoing his tie while keeping eye contact with Gojo said otherwise, his knee firmly on the bed, balanced. Flexing through his suit pants.

His thighs were really nice.

Nanami crawled towards Utahime, her body bending under him, submitting for him until she was flat, exposed to him completely. Utahime was still in the lacy slip she had worn under her wedding dress, Nanami humming as he settled over her, inspecting. He pinched the fabric where Gojo had stained it, minutes before the ceremony.

“Couldn’t help yourself, Gojo?”

Nanami’s eyes could have been darts, tipped with poison. Serrated, so it was guaranteed to hit a vein. Gojo swallowed.

“You’re shameless.”

Utahime’s chest was shaking, her nipples poking through the satin material as Nanami felt her up, dragging her under him.

“It’s okay, lovely.” Nanami pressed a kiss to her forehead. Calming her. “You’ll finally have me.”

“Nanami,” Utahime’s voice was soft – Gojo knew she was wet, that she was aching for it. She got tamer the longer you toyed with her, more malleable, more willing to acquiesce.

Nanami had made her wait the better part of a year.

He had Gojo beat.

“Pretty girl.” Nanami stroked her hair. “Let me show you what you’ve been missing.”

Gojo watched as Nanami undid his belt, tossing it onto the floor at Gojo’s feet, the buckle snapping against his shoe. Nanami undid his pants in front of Utahime, her eyes wide, trained on him. Her singular focus.

Her husband.

Nanami let his clothes fall halfway off the bedside, pushing the garments down with his feet. He unbuttoned his shirt next, Utahime biting her lip, her hand trailing down his stomach, scratching at the trail of light blond hair that dipped below his hips.

Gojo eyed his waist, the whittled torso he had, the lines of harsh muscles. Gojo knew Nanami worked out every morning, usually on his bedroom floor, like some pious monk. He had to admit it payed off – he looked good naked. Hot.

When his underwear came off, Gojo bucked in his seat, embarrassed by himself.

He was big.

Bigger than Gojo. For sure.

Utahime’s voice was small, her body squirming under Nanami. “Oh.”

Gojo’s gut twisted. He couldn’t help but feel himself get harder, lift his hips into the air as Nanami stroked himself, Utahime transfixed.

His voice was doting, the closest Gojo had ever heard Nanami to teasing. “Am I good enough for you?”

Utahime met his eyes, unspeaking. Gojo knew what Nanami was seeing – the depth of her soul reflected so easily in her eyes, her love rising to the surface of her face. She spread wider for him, kissing him as he fell on top of her, Utahime’s cunt making a mess of his thighs.

“You ready for me, princess?”

Nanami wasn’t a tease.

He was a provider.

Utahime bit her lip, turning her head away from Gojo, still staring intently. “Nanami.”

“Ignore him,” Nanami sweet-talked her, cooing in her ear. Tucking her hair behind her shoulder, his eyes softer than daybreak. Gojo felt his face go hot, his dick twitching at Nanami’s dismissal. “He doesn’t matter right now.”

Utahime nodded, letting Gojo slip her mind.

Nanami flipped her, pressing her face into the mattress, her back curving into his torso.

They looked good. Really good.

“I’ve been wanting you,” Nanami looked dignified, stately, as he stroked himself, letting his cock rub lightly against her ass. “For so long.”

Gojo shifted in the chair, trying to be as small as possible, failing miserably as every movement of his legs made his dick ache.

Nanami slid a pillow under Utahime’s stomach, giving her hips support, letting her rest on it.

She closed her eyes in thanks, Nanami leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Gojo had to look away, focusing on where their hips met instead.

Nanami was stroking his dick between her folds, rubbing himself along her length, coating his cock in her slick, teasing her clit with his wide head. She only flooded more, her cum translucent on Nanami’s dick.

“What a good princess. So wet for me.”

Utahime shivered at the same time Gojo did.

He entered her slowly, Utahime burying her face into a pillow as he sank down, every inch making her sob. Nanami had the patience of a saint, observing her reactions, pulling out two inches for every little thrust he gave.

Gojo was wrong. Nanami was a tease.

“Gonna fill you up, princess.” Nanami smiled, his lips soft. “I know it’s what you want.”

Utahime whimpered, her breasts trapped between the mattress and herself, rubbing against the covers with every push Nanami gave, until he was fully in her, his base making her hole flutter.

“Tell her how good she looks on my dick, Gojo.” Nanami thrust his hips into her, Utahime’s clit rubbing against the pillow Nanami placed under her, her hips stuttering as she rut down against it. “She’s been waiting for it so long.”

“Looks really good,” Gojo mumbled, his brain on aflame. He felt stupid, deranged for thinking he was giving Utahime something better than this. This was the extent of Nanami’s goodwill, allowing his wife’s toy to be in the room while he fucked her open.

Words of gratitude wouldn’t come.

Gojo seethed.

“She can’t hear you,” Nanami smiled, steadily, thrusting into her at a pace where Utahime’s mouth opened, drool slipping past her lips. “Tell her how pretty she is.”

“You’re so pretty, Uta.” Gojo swallowed, his voice foreign, distant. “You take his dick so well.”

Utahime’s face was bright red, and Gojo could feel Nanami’s groan.

“She really liked that, Gojo. Feels amazing. So tight.”

Several strands of hair fell in Nanami’s face, the color of the shore after the tide. Gojo felt himself sweating, his own cock pushing painfully against his thigh, his balls raw.

Nanami’s eyes roamed over her as he leaned back, thrusting into her at a new, more direct angle. “Does it feel good, lovely?”

Utahime sobbed. “Yes.”

“And you wanna have a baby, don’t you?”

Gojo’s blood turned to ice. Utahime keened, burying her head into the pillow, screaming, her voice turned to a slur of moans. “Yes, Nanami, please.”

He smiled, content, stroking her sides. “I’ll give you a baby, don’t worry.”

Her hands were fisted in the sheets, knuckles white as lace.

Gojo had no idea how this would have affected Utahime. Affected him.

In his hindbrain, Gojo knew Utahime wanted to be a mother. Recalled Nanami mentioning it, threatening Gojo with the sanctity of that craving.

Gojo didn’t know it got her this wound up.

“Think she could swallow me, Gojo?” Nanami was fucking her, the watch on his wrist rattling on her waist. “I don’t know. She’s so tiny.”

Gojo moaned, pitifully.

“I bet her throat’s hot. Tight.” Nanami pressed her down further, his legs trapping hers closer, forcing her thighs together. Gojo could only imagine how tight it felt, how even as Nanami pulled out of her, her legs were squeezing him. “Can’t wait to see her face when I come on it.”

He was so, so hard. Gojo felt his cock pressing into the backside of his zipper, his dress slacks horribly creased. “She doesn’t like that,” Gojo managed to mumble.

“You don’t?” Nanami stroked Utahime’s back, fucking her deeper. Making sure her hands curled into the sheets before he covered them, forcing her palms flat onto the mattress. “But you’d like it for me, right princess? You’d let me come all over your pretty face and watch it drip down your neck?”

Utahime’s eyes were glassy, her shoulders shaking as she was held down. Gojo had never seen her this lucid, this finely tuned. “Yes.”

“See?” Nanami smiled at Gojo, his body still bearing over his wife’s back, his hips fucking her into the mattress. “She’d do anything for her king.”

At his words, Utahime came - it was obvious; Gojo knew the signs. Her legs thrashed, her throat buzzing with small trills. Nanami gripped her hips, steadying himself inside her, keeping his hips still.

Trying not to come.

Nanami fucked Utahime through her orgasm, his stomach flexing, Gojo’s eyes switching between their faces. Utahime was slowly blinking again, opening her eyes to the world.

She opened them to Gojo, who she tried to smile at, the flush on her cheeks faded to a champagne color.

Nanami leaned down, his hand reaching down to toy with her clit, pushing the pillow out of the way, making her gasp. “Can you go again, princess? For our guest?”

Utahime weakly nodded.

Nanami kissed her cheek. “You’re too good to me.”

A tear fell down her face, melting into the bedsheet.

Gojo was close – there was an uncomfortable thought in his head, the side of him that wanted Nanami’s attention, wanted Nanami to acknowledge him. Spit at him.

Maybe fuck him open like Utahime, choke him until he passed out on his cock.

Gojo swallowed, ignoring his lesser half. He didn’t need that right now.

Utahime keened, throwing herself back onto Nanami, his hips shaking as she met his lap.

“You want a baby that bad, huh?” Nanami stroked her breasts, rolling over a nipple with calloused fingers. Utahime made a desperate sound; one a trapped creature makes as a plea to its god. “It’s okay. I want it, too.” Nanami eyed Gojo, never moving his head, not allowing him the satisfaction of distracting his attention from his wife. Gojo swallowed, his throat syrupy, filled with the sudden taste of vanilla from their wedding cake. He felt sick, on the edge of a new thrill. Nanami’s hand traveled down to Utahime’s stomach, sliding between her and the mattress, his hand covering her womb, spanning her entire front. “Need you filled with me. I want our baby.”

Gojo came, the stain in his pants widening, his cock continuing to pump through his orgasm, just picturing Utahime pregnant with another man’s child.

He’d still want her.

He’d want her more, to remind her who she really belongs to.

They continued fucking through Gojo’s orgasm, oblivious to him, Nanami snapping his hips hard enough that their skin met sharply, the backs of Utahime’s thighs turning red. Utahime was wild, tearing herself apart, her hair’s curls bouncing along her back, covering her rocking tits as she pleaded for Nanami’s dick, begged him to finish inside her.

Gojo could only close his eyes.

Nanami cursed as he came, groaning loud enough that Gojo felt it in his skull. He could tell Utahime was cumming on her husband’s cock seconds later, the way she wordlessly sunk down on him, keeping him sheathed inside her, tilting her hips upwards.

Nanami pressed a kiss to the planes of her back, muttering princess to her in his soft voice as he rocked through his orgasm, the one Gojo only heard him use with –

Well, with Utahime.

As Nanami pulled out, Gojo saw the string of cum attached to his dick – even soft he was impressive, enough that Gojo’s mouth watered. Utahime was in a pool of slick, her cunt fucked open, everything spilling out of her as Nanami lifted her up, setting her head gently on a pillow. She tried sitting up, but failed, her body curling back down into the downy hotel pillow.

They collapsed, breathing heavily, Utahime’s back to Gojo. She curled into Nanami, her hair tangled around his thick fingers, slick with her mess.

Nanami’s voice was placid, even. He didn’t stop combing her hair, running the loose curls out. “You can go, Gojo.”

We’re finished with you, were his unspoken words.

Nanami was murmuring to her, cradling her as Gojo shut the door, hearing the automatic lock click. He used his suit jacket to disguise the stain in front of him, folding it over his arm in a low drape. Gojo pulled out his phone halfway down the hallway, drafting a message to Nanami.

enjoyed the show

tuck her in for me

;)

Gojo considered for a moment before pressing send, tucking his phone into his back pocket. He walked back to his room in the hotel, taking the stairs so that he wouldn’t run into anyone. The corridor reminded him he smelled strongly of sex, a little bit like sugar, his footsteps keeping him company until he collapsed in his bed, not bothering to even take off his shoes.

Nanami didn’t reply until noon the next day, waking Gojo from a deep, mindless sleep.

Come over for dinner next week? Our treat.

Gojo grinned. He supposed it was marital bliss.